


Kabul, 1988

by AnotherAnon0



Series: Toxic [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood, Dubious Morality, Light Masochism, M/M, Military, Russia, Soviet Union, The first Sergei/Nicholai???? HUH???, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Nicholai visits Sergei in the hospital in war-torn Kabul, Afghanistan.~“I want a smoke.”The raspy words were dry, hollow, and too quiet to fit the man they came from.Fabric rustled in the darkness, and without the stark white of the bandages to provide guidance, Nicholai wouldn’t have been able to make out the arm meekly directing towards the small, square table beside the bed.
Relationships: Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Sergei Vladimir
Series: Toxic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718308
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	Kabul, 1988

__

* * *

_What is that smell all hospitals have?_

Nicholai let the smell tickle the tip of his nostrils, declining to breathe it in, interrogating it for a moment.

_Caustic disinfectants. Countless people’s unique scents. Detergent. Sweat. Blood. Latex. Powder._

The hospital in Kabul didn’t smell any different than the ones in Moscow did. The one in Beijing. The one in Belgrade. Any he had passed through or imagined he would ever pass through.

It was dark in the room. It had to be. From beneath the tightly drawn curtain there was a crack of harsh, yellow light slicing into the floor just a few feet away from the toes of his dusty, worn boots. His eyes followed it, point to point as he tried again to get comfortable in the old, cracked vinyl-coated chair.

_Why do all hospitals have the same, shitty furniture?_

“I want a smoke.”

The raspy words were dry, hollow, and too quiet to fit the man they came from.

Fabric rustled in the darkness, and without the stark white of the bandages to provide guidance, Nicholai wouldn’t have been able to make out the arm meekly directing towards the small, square table beside the bed.

“That’s such a stupid thing to want right now.” He said pointedly. But it didn’t stop him from getting up and cautiously approaching the table. Finding the plastic handle with a feeling palm, Nicholai wrangled the faux-wood drawer open and began searching for the cigarettes.

The cool metal of a gun was familiar against his fingertips. A radio clicked as he pushed at it, searching. He hated that he instinctively knew the watch by feeling. The cigarettes were at the back of the drawer.

Nicholai fumbled with the pack of belomorkanal for a moment, finally popping it open and pulling one out with a pinch. He hated that he instinctively knew the lighter would be nestled inside, in the empty space once occupied by cigarettes.

He closed distance with the bed, and carefully leaned over the weakened body nestled within it. After a failed attempt and a prod, the cigarette was between two dry lips.

A flick of the lighter created an abusive glow on his face. Bandages wrapped around half of his head, brown and bloody where his eye would have been. Where his eye had once been. Nicholai couldn’t help but swallow deeply after he snapped the lighter shut and restored darkness to the room.

A deep inhale. The cigarette glowed like an ember in the darkness. The familiar smell of the hospital was being drowned out by the familiar smell of his cigarettes. A shaky, pained exhale.

“Thank you, _Kolya_.”

“Shut up.”

Nicholai hadn’t noticed the bandaged hand cupping his hip.

A moment of silence passed between them. The ember burned and faded rhythmically with the trembling breaths coming from the chest wrapped beneath the layers of white linens.

Almost frantically, Nicholai wrestled another cigarette from the pack, stuffing it between his own lips and lighting it quickly. His eyes went to the corner of the room. He didn’t want to see what he saw again – the face. When darkness returned, he tossed the warm lighter and pack of cigarettes in the general direction of the table. He missed.

Nicholai took a drag, internally condemning himself for avoiding the question he’d wanted to ask in the hour he’d been in the room. “Why did yo—” He cleared his throat, “Why did you push me out of the way? The mortar would have killed me, but you would have been fine.”

A chuckle in the darkness, but no answer. The hovering ember burned and faded again.

“You didn’t do that for Yuri.” Nicholai asserted, taking another drag.

“You’re special.” The hoarse words came quickly, milliseconds after the last sound left Nicholai’s lips, but trickled out slowly. A smug drip of syllables that made no sense, even if Nicholai had heard them before. Even if he knew exactly what they meant. Even if they made perfect sense. 

Nicholai scoffed loudly, almost laughing. Turning on the heels of his boots, he crossed the threshold of the slice of light on the floor that had inched ever-so closer to him while he had been up. The wounded hand that had been gently touching him made a soft noise as it fell to the bed as he marched away. Grunting as he plunked down on the rickety vinyl chair, Nicholai took another drag.

“You’re not a stronger man for not taking the painkillers, you know.” He spat, trying to be venomous but barely managing his usual growl. He exhaled, and the razor-sharp line of light on the floor wiggled like a worm as his lung-full of smoke hit the curtain.

He hated that he instinctively knew Sergei was smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying to keep it as canon as I possibly can, where details exist. Y'know. Other than the two being in a relationship >_>;
> 
> Sergei and Nicholai are said to have served in Afghanistan as Spetsnaz, which would have made them part of the Operation Storm-333. The Soviet Union was involved in multiple operations in Afghanistan throughout the 70s and 80s. 
> 
> "Kolya" is the diminutive of Nicholai!
> 
> Later... there may be more content which aligns with the tags.


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